Not Way Forward Productions has managed to put up a brilliant virtual version of ‘Richard II’ in pre-recorded video format. It is well-executed -...
What do buffet staff think about as they watch you stuff down your fourth
plate of chicken chow-mein? Maybe they’re questioning why anyone drinks cows’
milk...
Since the initial departure of its peerless founder and
namesake in 2000, Jil Sander has spent much of the last two decades wrangling
with its sense...
It would be hard to think of another set of myths that are so present in contemporary culture as those surrounding the fall of Troy and its aftermath, immortalised most notably by Homer and Virgil. Stories such as the judgment of Paris, which sets the war in motion, the deception of the ‘Trojan Horse’ and Odysseus’ encounter with the Cyclops during his decade-long journey home are many people’s first introduction to the classical past as children, and the past few years have seen a resurgence of the Trojan cycle in popular culture. Novels such as Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles and Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls have reconsidered the war and its characters from different angles, and the BBC’s Troy: Fall of a City adaptation brought the saga to a generation raised on Game of Thrones. Therefore, the British Museum chose an opportune time for this year’s BP exhibition, Troy: myth and reality, which aims ambitiously to exhibit artistic depictions of the well-known myths and their various post-classical reinterpretations alongside the archaeological evidence that Troy and the war actually existed.
The Royal Academy’s current exhibition, Lucian Freud: The Self-portraits, is a bold and singular response to this century’s fascination with self-image. Lucian Freud’s artistic career predates the selfie-saturated 2010s, yet his work captures the obsession and volume with which we display ourselves today.
